Posted on August 17, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Food, glorious food!

 

Can man survive on bread alone?

Can man survive for two weeks on banana pancakes and miniature carrots?

The first reference comes from the bible. The second comes from first- hand experience.

This biblical reference has popped into my head several times in recent days. Those of us who live alone understand the challenges of cooking for one person. It’s hard to prepare a meal that’s designed for one unless you opt to go to KFC for a “dinner for one”. Meal preparation results in the inevitable. You will be eating leftovers for a few days.

A few… and a few more.

Knowing that I would be in isolation for 14 days upon my return to the north, I placed an online grocery order in hopes that my food would arrive around the same time that I did. I was extremely grateful to a colleague who left a few food items at my apartment door, realizing that my groceries might not come and that I wouldn’t be able to go to either of our two grocery stores. This turned out to be a godsend. Included in this gesture of goodwill was a bag of baby carrots. My grocery order did arrive later that day.

Stay with me here.

As I unpacked my suitcases, I popped a frozen lasgana into the oven. I would become well acquainted with this Italian delicacy over the next five days. I ate egg salad sandwiches for endless days. I didn’t take me quite two weeks to polish off 32 homemade oatmeal and coconut cookies.

I initially thought that I would have plenty of food to do me during self-isolation. In fact, I did, but the variety left something to be desired. For a few days, I watched a bunch of bananas wither and die. I used a few of them to make a fruit salad. I had a choice of either making a banana bread or pancakes with the rest of them. I chose the pancakes.

When I placed my grocery order in the south, I asked for a large bag of carrots. I should have been more specific and asked for a bag of large carrots. I received the biggest bag of baby carrots that I had ever laid eyes on. Combined with the bag I had received from my friend, I had enough small carrots to possibly last a lifetime.

Well into week 2 of quarantine, my fridge was virtually bare except for a large steel bowl of banana pancake batter and a million miniature carrots. A recipe for a single batch of pancakes would have sufficed but rather than toss out some bananas, I decided to double the recipe. The result was impressive. However, there was enough batter for a pancake breakfast for a big family reunion or a church hall pancake supper.

Here’s a question for you foodies out there. Are baby carrots real? These runt sized, perfectly symmetrical vegetables, taste something like the cross between recycled cardboard and uncooked, dry lentils. I have come to believe that their real purpose is to staunch the flow of blood during a nosebleed by inserting one of them in your nostril. Alternatively, they would be an adequate substitute for ear plugs. The other thing I noticed about these small, bullet shaped root vegetables is that they have the life span of a mayfly once you open the bag. In case you’re wondering, mayflies live on average, 24 hours. Man, if you’re a mayfly you definitely need to make hay while the sun shines. Carpe diem takes on a whole new meaning.I have noticed that exposed to fresh air, seeing that they’ve probably been a vacuum sealed bag for months if not years, baby carrots turn slimy. Ok. Enough. You get my drift.

Because my quarantine ended on the weekend, I was able to restock my fridge. Oh yes. When I placed my second grocery order from down south, I used very descriptive language to indicate the size of carrots I wanted.

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The Inuit people are the friendliest people I’ve ever met. Despite being in self isolation, I have been able to go for daily walks on the tundra and the back roads leading into the countryside. I get stopped routinely by local people welcoming me back. Their smiles could light the night sky.

I have become intimately acquainted with two truck drivers. They have been hauling truck loads of huge rocks to town from a nearby quarry for the foundation for a new warehouse. On my long walks out to the landfill, they pass me numerous times. The road on which I’m walking is a dirt road and at this time of the year is quite dusty. When they see me coming off in the distance, they immediately gear down to avoid me getting choked with dust. They always give me a big wave and a smile.

One day last week as I walked this road, I could hear the distinct sound of an eagle overhead. It swooped and soared, passing over me with some regularity. Around this time, one of the trucks approached me. The driver slowed down as he usually does but this time he came to a complete stop. From his cab high above the road, he pointed to the sky and the mountains nearby. “Eagles nest,” was all he said as he headed into town. All the squawking made sense now.

The other day, I was walking to the water plant to refill my water container. To get there and stay off the main street, I walked across the tundra which, among other things, is home to a five- hole golf course. Running adjacent to the course are burial grounds, the pipeline which carries oil from the tankers to the oil terminal and a pack of sled dogs. It is without doubt, the most unique location for a golf course. There was a man on one of the synthetic putting greens practicing. He waved and asked me if I wanted to play a bit of golf. Some of you know that I was a pretty keen golfer for a long time. I was sorely tempted to join him but wanted to adhere to the strict protocol of my self- isolation. I took a rain check!

We did, however have a splendid, socially distance chat. We first talked golf and he told me that he was a 9- time local champion. Watching his putting stroke, I wasn’t surprised. We moved on to other subjects. He told me that he was a hunter and a fisher. He told me about his ever-growing family. He had a lovely spirit about him. He told me that Kangiqsujuaq was the most beautiful place in the world. I paused and reflected on this last statement. I certainly haven’t seen a lot of the world, but I have seen some. I agreed with him.

As it turned out, the water plant outdoor spigot wasn’t working on this day. I headed back home but not before stopping by the putting green again. My new friend pointed at a nearby mountain about one kilometer away. He said that there was a spot at the base of the mountain to get the purest water on earth.

I walked over the tundra, past the dog sled team and around one of the burial grounds. I filled my jug with cold, pristine water. Passing by the graveyard again, I stopped and removed my hat. I stood there in silence looking at the rows of simple white crosses.

Surrounded by mountains and the bay, I was quite moved by the experience.

Have a great week.

Posted on August 10, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

The tundra bathed in golden light

 

Going through round 2 of self-isolation gives a person a lot of time to think. Too much apparently as lately I have been pondering a number of serious questions: Who am I? What is the meaning of life? What is love? Is there life after death? And throw in a bonus head shaker… how do they get the caramel into a Caramilk chocolate bar?

Whoa. Back up the bus, Len. You’re losing it.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has spent more time with themselves recently than they have ever done before because of the pandemic. We’re a culture that’s not steeped in solitude. We have social media, books, movies and our cats and dogs to keep us amused and distracted but there are times when things fall silent and he have time to ponder our place in the universe.

Please, Len. Covid-19 is tough enough without you going all philosophical on us.

You will be relieved to know that I’m not going to give you my take on these weighty questions, but I will admit that I have been particularly reflective lately. It doesn’t hurt, as scary as it might seem, to look in the mirror every once in a while, to take stock. I try not to look in the mirror for too long. Even mirrors have feelings!

Before I left for the north, I had lunch with a woman that I have greatly admired for years. She’s in her 80s and has lived a rich, interesting life. She has made a significant contribution in many ways. Like many of her generation in our part of the world, she grew in a large Catholic family and her faith has been her bedrock. After lunch, I asked her what her feelings were about the afterlife. It is safe to say that her faith comforts her that there is something to look forward to when “I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, and danced the skies on laughter silver wings.” (John Magee – High Flight). I must confess that I don’t have the same degree of conviction as my friend. I continue to feel that heaven is all around us. And so is hell. The world is in a mess these days.

I remember clearly the first time I was asked as a child about the meaning of love. It was in elementary school. I don’t know why the teacher posed this question to a bunch of 9 year-olds when many of us north of 60 still can’t articulate the notion of love in any meaningful way. I can hear you all shouting, “Speak for yourself, Len.” If you have it figured out, congratulations. I explored this topic recently with a friend and she sent me two video links. A pair of rabbis give some interesting insights into love. Thanks to my friend for these links.

Back in the 70s (I now clarify that I’m talking about the 1970s and not the 1870s!), Roger Whittaker, the Kenyan born, British raised singer, sang the song “What Love Is”. I like his description as much as any that I’ve heard:

“Love is a morning sunrise, love is the rain that falls;

Love is an evening sunset, a stranger that calls.

Love is an April shower, the warmth of a summer day,

Love is the hidden sunshine, that chases tears away.

Green as the grass that’s growing, blue as the sky above,

Soft as the wind that’s blowing, all these things are love.

Love is a bolt of lightning, slashing across the sky,

Love is the tender warmth, I see within your eye.”

This was a popular wedding song decades ago. Over the years, I sang at quite a few weddings. I don’t want to tell you the percentage of these marriages that survived. Maybe my singing was the first sour note!

I’m into my second week of self-isolation and mercifully I am allowed to go for walks on “the land”. The tundra is conveniently located a few footsteps from my front door. The landscape is quite different than the winter. At first, it appears rather drab and uninteresting, but every time I walk, I notice something different and beautiful. The light changes often. The picture at the top of the page is a great illustration. As the sun started its slow descent, it bathed the tundra in a blanket of gold. Minutes later, it changed and looked completely different.

The Inuit have a strong attachment to the land. In my short time here, I am starting to understand why.

I try to walk daily to the large inukshuk on the outskirts of town. It is a popular place to meet and watch the northern lights. I go there because it is peaceful. I often touch the massive stones hoping for some inspiration and insights into life’s most haunting questions.

How they get the caramel inside a Caramilk bar is still one of life’s great mysteries!

Have a great week.

 

P.S. HBTM

Posted on August 3, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments

 

 

 

“See you, in September?

 

Have you ever woken up in the morning and wondered what the hell just happened?

To be honest, the last twelve months of my life have felt like this. The past 365 days have provided a dizzying array of experiences. There have been highs and lows. There has been joy and sorrow, laughter and tears and an array of other emotions that I have yet to be able to define. There have been events in my home province and around the world that have left me shaken and shaking my head.

I know one thing for certain. I am alive and well. Changed and a bit scarred but aren’t we all?

I am paddling my canoe solo as I embark on the next chapter of my life.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think a year ago that I would resume my teaching career after a brief (!) 40- year hiatus. Nor did I think that the return to the classroom would happen in a northern Inuit community. Such is the complete unpredictable nature of life. And isn’t that grand?

Yesterday, after countless hours and six flights, I arrived back in Kangiqsujuaq, Quebec. I’ll give you a few minutes to Google this, but the village is located near the northern tip of the province on the Ungava Bay. When I stepped off the plane, I felt like I was returning home. “And that, is a good thing” as Martha Stewart often opines.

After spending four days in Montreal completing (and passing!) my Covid-19 test, I now must self-isolate for 14 days. I know the drill having done this in late March when we were sent home once the pandemic got a foothold in every corner of the world. One piece of very good news is that we will be allowed to go out and walk on the tundra after day 4. This is a huge gift especially for one who enjoys walking.

When I arrived at my apartment, I was greeted with a bag of groceries on my doorstep from a friend and colleague, Marion. After a very long day with no meals other than breakfast at 4:30 a.m., I nearly ate the frozen lasgana without heating it up. In my freezer, I discovered some frozen cookies that I had made prior to leaving. Lasagna plus cookies and milk. Folks, it doesn’t get any better than this! My sincere thanks to Marion for her kindness and generosity.

After unpacking and eating supper, I curled up on the couch to finish an excellent book that I had been reading on the plane. If you’re a cycling enthusiast or even if you’re not, Road to Valour by Aili and Andres McConnon is the true story of a famous Italian cyclist set in World War 2. I only had 10 pages left in the book and I wanted to finish it before going to bed.

Do you know what it means to bonk? Get your mind out of the gutter! I don’t mean that kind of bonking! In endurance sports such as cycling and running, hitting the wall or the bonk is a condition of sudden fatigue and loss of energy which is caused by the depletion of glycogen stores in the liver and muscles. As some of you know, I ran a few marathons including Boston twice. I never officially bonked because if I had, I would not have been able to finish these races. When you bonk, you’re done, and no amount of mental fortitude will do you a damn bit of good. You may want to go on, but your body will not allow you to continue.

I read page 247 and then I read it again. You get the picture. I think it took me an hour to read the last 10 pages of the book. I had bonked. I could scarcely drag my pandemic pound- laden hulk to the bedroom. I knew that going to bed this early would cost me a very early wakening. I was pleasantly surprised when I rolled over and saw that it was morning as daylight flooded my room with light. I turned on my phone to discover that it was 4:00 a.m. Unlike the middle of winter up here when you go to bed in the dark and get up in the dark, in the summer it’s just the opposite. I still felt quite fatigued and decided to roll over. Three hours later, I woke for the second time. I don’t ever recall sleeping 11 hours.

Before I end yet another vacuous piece of writing, I have to say a word about masks. I wore one yesterday for 11 hours. A few times, I felt overheated and mildly claustrophobic. My thought immediately turned to health care professionals. Any of us mere mortals who complain about wearing a mask need a good swift kick in the arse. Every day, health care professionals have to don masks for 12- hour shifts and more. In addition to the discomfort they must feel, they are also putting themselves at risk. Putting on a mask while you shop for groceries is not a hardship or inconvenience. It’s just the right thing to do.

As I write this, I can hear the mournful wail of a pack of sled dogs out on the tundra. I know that I am home.

Have a great week.

P.S. It is unlikely that I will be able to do “Pillow Talk North” any time soon. My internet connection is quite weak especially for video. When I have access to the school, I might try it from there.

P.P.S. School is supposed to start on August 10^th but that will not happen. The last wave of teachers won’t arrive here until late August and it won’t be September before they finish their isolation. There’s also construction going on in our school.